Possessive
by Kyron
Summary: 2007 Movie.  JazzxBee, JazzxIronhide, IronhidexBee, IronhidexRatchet. A routine security check of the lower cell blocks leads to a rather unexpected situation for Ironhide.  Please be advised of the rating.  This is a heavily slashed fic.


**Possessive**

As a pair, they've always been considered 'unconventional' and 'unorthodox' but no one could deny that if you needed something done, you went to Jazz and Bumblebee. Their non-traditional ways and creative insights had been the sealing mark on many missions most mechs deemed to be 'not worth the trouble'. Rumors, of course, ran rampant. Everyone wanted a piece of these two but they had no interest in the masses. Their attentions seemed entirely focused on one another and it showed. Besides, there were inherent risks in trying to attract the attentions of one. His partner would ensure you never made another attempt either by threats or having you spend time in the med bay. Such incidents never happened in public and there were never any charges filed against the pair. They were the golden children of the base, after all. Untouchable in more than one way. That didn't, of course, stop many of the soldiers from lusting after them, not at all. Their seemingly unattainable nature drew more mechs into the web. Jazz and Bumblebee, for their part, liked the attention. Both mechs were sociable and polite both on and off duty, willing to help if you simply asked. It didn't change the fact that, regardless of the façades shown by the other mech's of the base, they were still the most desired companions around. They owned this place and they knew it.

Their nature was flirtatious and teasing without even trying. Most of the time, they didn't mean to do it. Well, one would think that it was simply an accidental side effect to their charismatic dispositions. No one would ever find out different because no one would ever get that close to them. That was the general consensus. So, based on that theory, no one should have walked into the cell blocks, of all places, and caught even a glimpse of the scene before them. It was in the most well hidden cells, cloaked in complete darkness if not for the faint glow of the light stick mounted to the wall. You could hear the faint whispers of voices as the shadows cast from the light flickered and danced along the walls. It was supposed to be a basic patrol of the lower levels. They were done randomly, though hardly anyone ever ventured this far into the cell block. As I got closer, I could hear the voices better but could not make out what was being said. They were, however, recognizable in an instant. The first voice was Jazz, the second Bumblebee. I stopped, straining my audios to hear what was being said. Still, no words could be made out, but the _tones_ they used spoke volumes. Jazz's voice was low and husky while Bumblebee's seemed enticingly pleading. The resounding clash of metal meeting metal, the following whimpering cry and the ending guttural moan allowed images to flood my processor, drawing me physically closer to the cell. I've been around a long time and seen a lot of things. But what I was presented with in that cell was something I've never seen before. I hadn't even imagined it. And, thinking back on it, I don't think I could've.

Bumblebee had his back to the cell wall, Jazz advancing slowly and quite deliberately. The larger of the two bots put up no resistance as one of his hands was lifted and pinned above his head. His other hand soon followed suit. Jazz drew his free hand along the frame now mounted before him, the other bot arching just slightly into the feather light touches. The hand pulled away and the body arched more. Bumblebee gave a growling moan and arched further as Jazz's hand continued to pull away. The silver arm jerked, much like recoil, and the captive's body slammed back, the moan turning to a garbled cry to mumbled whimpers. I felt myself tense, the pleasure-filled sounds of the young mech rang in my audios, feeding processors with bits of information and ideas on how to get him to make those noises again. Jazz appeared to be satisfied with throaty resonance, his hands recoiling again, sending the pinned mech into powerful shivers against the wall. Clawed hands released their holds and Bumblebee's arms remained pinned to the metal wall, Jazz using his unparalleled talent with magnetics to keep them there.

I felt my entire frame begin to tremble as I watched Jazz slowly tease his companion, drawing out some of the most desperate cries I've ever heard leave any mech's vocalizer. Bumblebee arched and twisted, always trying to bring Jazz closer to him. The silver mech seemed quite content with his current actions, giving his 'captive' a smirk and refusing to move closer. He'd touch and move, creating his own paths over the yellow armor, never taking the same route twice. But it was when Jazz didn't touch him, when he used the magnetics, that Bumblebee was his most vocal. I could only imagine the feel of it. The distinct pull, not only on your armor but the components lying beneath, of being drawn away from yourself, magnifying the sensitivity of the surrounding circuitry. Makes it hypersensitive. It was a thrilling prospect but alas, very few mechs had the ability nor the talent to handle them in such a way. Jazz was one of those few. Bumblebee gave another cry, his voice becoming harsh, but I had a feeling Jazz was no where near finished playing with his toy. Using one's imagination only got you so far. Sometimes, you just had to try and get the real thing. And, for the moment, the 'real thing' was right in front of me.

I don't know when I started moving forward, just that before I knew it, Bumblebee gave a sharp gasp, optics locked on me. Jazz spun quickly, keeping his back to the yellow mech on the wall, taking up a defensive stance to protect him if necessary. I saw the confusion cross his face for the split second it took for me to pin him against his partner's body, keeping them there by putting both hands against the wall. The look was soon gone, replaced instead by a defiant glare. He was trembling, but whether it was from his present anger or his previous arousal I didn't know. I just know that the heat and reverberations radiating from his and Bumblebee's surfaces was intoxicating and I wanted to be closer to them both. His intakes increased their processes, an obvious indication to his agitation. I nuzzled the area around Jazz's audio receptor, touching neither mech in any other manner, and let my own systems resonate my intentions. He tensed, intakes hitching and even his trembling stopped. My actions were simple, I was asking for permission before doing anything to either mech. He stood there, stock still for several moments, before a longing whimper from his partner started him out of his thoughts. Roughly, and with a speed I'd forgotten he possessed, he grabbed me by the chest armor and yanked me forward.

He seemed to regard me for a moment before speaking.

"You tread on some very dangerous ground." he grated, speaking right next to my own audio receptors. "And I'm not so sure you can handle it." he added, a smirk evident in his voice.

Everything about the mech spoke of dominance, he enjoyed when his partner submitted to him, loved being the one in control of the other's release. His message was easy to interpret…he wanted me to subject myself to him. I felt my own systems surge, a growl escaping my vocalizer. He was getting my own message and it was simple. I don't submit to anyone nor do I have any intentions on starting to now.

"Hm, a feisty one. You might be fun to play with after all." he said, sending a reversed polarity pulse down the front of my frame.

It felt like a shockwave, pushing towards my core, forcing the circuits to realign. I felt everything stop and miss a beat. Forceful but not quite painful. The shock felt like it bordered on the small line between pain and pleasure, making your body want to pull away but demanding more. Apparently, that's exactly what he was hoping for because in that small moment, he had twisted and slammed me against the wall right next to Bumblebee. I was caught off-guard by the sudden move, my systems still reeling from the magnetic pulse.

"Tsk, tsk. You're making this too easy. Gunna have to play harder, Ironhide." he cooed, reaching his free hand over to drag his clawed fingers over Bumblebee's exposed side. The yellow bot squirmed in his 'restraints', drawing further whimpers from him. Jazz was smug, knowing that he currently had the upper hand in this 'contest of wills'. I couldn't currently make a move for control, my systems still realigning after the sudden jolt he sent through them.

I heard Bumblebee croon just off to the side and looked over. Jazz was lightly caressing the yellow mech's face, down the cables in his neck and then delving his fingers into the shoulder joint. The trapped mech let out the longest and most needy moan yet, his body thrashing in abandon. It sent tremors through my frame, just hearing him. Jazz wasn't immune to the sounds, the hand that still gripped my frame tensed with nearly unbearable tightness, making me gasp and push myself towards him just to relieve some of the pressure.

He was enjoying this. The control, the ability to determine if either of his 'toys' felt pleasure or pain. I'd come in here with the intent of taking him, both if I could, and yet, here I was, held against the wall by a single hand. And I had no desire to change my situation. He shot me with another pulse, stronger than the first, this time using positive polarity. I could do nothing but writher and cry out. It felt like my shell was going to crumble, each molecule pushing away before returning. It was like a ripple effect, starting small and getting stronger as it moved outward. A strange feeling to have your entire being -shift- simply because of a touch. It was intoxicating, exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Jazz's hands seemed capable of much. Either they'd bring you pleasure or they'd bring you death. His missions were classified and he never brought back prisoners. Often, he'd return with a coat of fluids that wasn't his.

Another jolt caused my knees to buckle, sending me to my knees and my badly timed musings skidding to a halt. He leaned down, fingers tapping the insides of my frame.

"Your mind is wandering, Ironhide. Stay with me or it's not as much fun."

When I emerged from the lower levels several breems later, I was cautious. Firstly, no routine check would take that long, secondly, I looked like I'd been hit by the smelter. Every inch of exposed plating was ringing and over-sensitized. Jazz had his fun and then I'd had mine. I'm debating if his slip was intentional or accidental. More than likely, the former. He'd left me with an opening I was not going to resist. He'd simply let me go. By that point, after what felt like merciless hours of taunting and teasing, my entire frame was on fire. I'd simply stood there for a while, watching as he similarly tormented his Companion until I could watch no more. The self-satisfied gleam in Jazz's optics as I pulled him to me was not completely unexpected. He liked the control and I'd lost any and all of mine.

Bumblebee had whimpered as I took Jazz from him. He continued to do so as his partner and I worked each other into a frenzy. Our encounter had been rough, border lining on violent, but at the same time, it was exactly what both of us wanted. Jazz pulled away and slid his back down against the wall as his systems shorted. Apparently, his hold on Bumblebee gave out moments later. The yellow mech collapsed next to him, frame shaking uncontrollably. He quickly latched himself on his counterpart, stroking and caressing overheated and responsive metal. Jazz's body reacted to him immediately, pressing closer to the touches, and Bumblebee was more than happy oblige.

I offlined my optics, content to listen to the sounds the other two made, so I was actually rather shocked to feel the same gentle touches on my own frame. Hastily, I turned my optics back on. Bumblebee had knelt before me, still trembling hands lightly stroking over my armor. I stared at him for a moment before Jazz's amused chuckle drew my attention. He still sat against the wall, and gave me a rather predatory smile while watching every move his partner made. A yellow hand was placed on the side of my face, turning me back to face it's owner. Bumblebee looked at me, stared even, as he let his hands slide down my neck and torso. His gaze didn't change until I reacted to him, edging just a bit closer on my knees. He smiled, coy and almost shy, experienced hands wriggling themselves between sheets of armor. I reached for him but he pushed my hands away, shaking his head and never saying a word but making his intent perfectly clear. He was leading and I was not to touch him without his permission. In essence, I was as bound as he had been earlier and was unable to lay a finger on him.

Being with Bumblebee was vastly different from being with Jazz. His touches were softer, more soothing, and tender. Yet, at the same time, he controlled the situation and I never got the upper hand. He seemed to have an adept ability of knowing where to touch and when and acting upon it. I felt the borders of overload tickle at my processors far more quickly than I ever recalled before. Having an audience wasn't helping me resist either. A forceful shot of warm, solar pulses was all it took to have me writhing in his grasp. I felt his hands release me and I gladly sank down to the floor, unable to hold my own weight up at the moment. As soon as he'd let me go, he practically flung himself on his partner, movements still gentle but backed by a frantic need. Jazz had responded, quite eagerly, initiating a fast linkup. He'd delved his fingers back into Bumblebee's shoulder, his systems still sensitive from his encounter with me, as the link pushed his systems into shorting again. Bumblebee soon followed, the hissing of hydraulics being the only sounds he made.

I'd managed to rise to my knees a few feet away. Watching them then, one tucked securely in the arms of the other as their systems slowed to normal, you couldn't imagine the fire that they had. Jazz was a forceful presence, exploding into any and every situation he found himself in, while Bumblebee had a gentle, soothing aura to him. While the descriptions suited them in their everyday life, it was even more fitting when they were like this. The war be twice damned as far as they were concerned. They lived life to live life.

I blame my little bout of enlightenment on the euphoria following getting my circuits scrambled not once, but twice. Something, other than the numerous new scratches and dings in my armor, must have made me obvious because when I walked into my quarters, I was met with the most dastardly glare my own Companion could possibly muster. He held up a nondescript data disk, looking at me as if I had some sort of explanation for the disk's existence. However, he didn't even give me an opportunity to activate my vocalizer before dropping the disk into the player. The images that filtered across the screen were colorless and grainy.

A security camera feed.

Of the lower level cell blocks.

Slag.

"Ratchet-"

I never had a chance. He was on me before I could even begin, really, connecting the components in our foreheads that initiated the circuit linkups. I cried out, grasping at him and once again finding myself on the floor, Ratchet right there with me. There was no way I was going to last long and both of us knew it. Ratchet is a master of 'tricks' during linkups but this time was different. His entire presence seemed shaken. I reassured him as best I could given the situation, ensuring no one had touched this part of me. The actual message I got from him?

'Don't you ever do that again without at least inviting me to watch.'

I started shaking. The mental images of what he suggested coupled with the sounds emitting from the security feed and the fierce possessiveness Ratchet sent through the uplink was just too much. I overloaded, for the third time, and could only -hope- I took him with me because there was no way in the pit I was going to be in any kind of shape for a fourth round.

I vaguely recall hearing the contented grumble as the uplink diminished. I do not, however, remember getting off the floor and to the berth. Nor do I know when Ratchet laid down with me or how we ended up so tangled up when we woke. Though, I am curious as to why that security feed is on repeat and just how many copies of that are lying around?


End file.
